Fairchild's Lady (Culper Ring Series) by Roseanna M. White Page B

Jean-Paul. On the task at hand, which was the earl’s wife and daughter, not a pretty French aristocrat he would likely never see again, save for in the dreams that had plagued him these months. “I must seek out the daughter of the marquis de Valence. Do you know him?”
    Jean-Paul sniffed in that way only a Frenchman could. Nothing but a small motion, hardly a sound, yet it conveyed more meaning than Fairchild could hope to interpret. “I know of him, of course, as everyone does, but being an untitled noble myself, I have never moved in his échelon , shall we say. Nor have I met his daughter or granddaughter, though I have seen them at court. Beautiful women, both. Très, très belle .” Jean-Paul arched a brow. “Which is it you have an interest in, mother or daughter?”
    “Neither and both.” Seeing no need to volunteer more, Fairchild offered only a smile and nudged his horse into a trot. “You know the ladies to see them, then? You could point them out to me? If I could bypass the marquis altogether, that would be preferable.” More expedient, he hoped.
    Please, Father God . How often had he prayed this same thing on the journey to France? Please let Lady Poole and Lady Julienne hear me out. Let them be swayed. Help me remove them from harm’s way .
    Jean-Paul inclined his head. “I know not where their residence is, but if we happen across them, then oui . The marquis will no doubt be embroiled in the meetings of the états-general .”
    A chill swept up Fairchild’s back despite the warm summer sun. “They convened it, then.” Proof that the news he had brought back to England with him three months ago was accurate. France was in dire straits, out of money and out of options.
    A snort matched the look of wariness in his friend’s eyes. “ Oui , they convened it. And the commoners declared themselves a National Assembly. There is rumor that they intend to remain assembled until they have drafted a constitution.”
    Fairchild opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Not when he caught sight of the field of soldiers drilling. Nay, then his throat went altogether dry. He had seen such formations often enough, though usually the men he regarded bore the scarlet jackets of his own regiment. “Why so many soldiers?”
    Jean-Paul chuckled. “The king may have given in to the demands of the Third Estate, but he is no fool. The military has been arriving both here and in Paris, I am told.”
    Though the masses of enemy soldiers inspired another drumroll of nerves, Fairchild drew in a deep breath and sent heavenward a deep prayer. He realized the mustering might actually be a blessing. With so much turmoil surrounding the court, no one would pay any heed to him. No one would pause to wonder why he sought out a certain madame and her daughter.
    And indeed, no one looked twice at him as he followed Jean-Paul to the massive stable complex. He grinned at the same boy who had taken care of his mount upon his last visit, tossed him a coin, and followed his friend back out.
    “ Un moment .” With his gaze fastened on a few gaily clad young ladies in the distance, Jean-Paul hastened away. Fairchild leaned against the building and watched the young man weave his charm. Bowing, fawning over ivory hands, speaking words Fairchild had no hope of hearing from here—and which he suspected would only make him fight a roll of the eye were he nearer.
    One of the ladies huffed and lifted her chin, but Jean-Paul only grinned and motioned toward Fairchild. Whatever he said seemed to appease the girl, for she smiled and made reply. A few moments later Jean-Paul strode his way again, satisfaction gleaming in his eye.
    “Come, mon ami . To the Grotte des Bains d’Apollon . They say your ladies made mention of heading that way this morning.”
    Nay. Fairchild pushed off the wall, careful to keep his features calm. Surely the young ladies were mistaken. Of all the acres of gardens, of all the acres of palace, why, why